


Lovejoy

by skaikruqueen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:03:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3864475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skaikruqueen/pseuds/skaikruqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy got a tattoo to remember the horrors that occurred in Mount Weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovejoy

Bellamy wanted something permanent to remember what happened at Mount Weather. Something more substantial than the nightmares that would wash over him and pull him under every time he closed his eyes.   
Although he still wasn't the biggest fan of Lincoln he trusted him and Lincoln had made the choice to stay with Octavia rather than leaving with the grounders.   
Lincoln knew someone that could give Bellamy something that would stay with him forever even when others had long forgotten. Bellamy set off with Lincoln in the late afternoon light in search of Lincoln’s mysterious friend G who was an artist.  
Bellamy knew that Clarke would have been able to tattoo him herself but this was something private, something that meant more the less minds who knew about it. 

Clarke returned to the med bay after spending quite a while trying to calm Monty down. Miller had fallen when he was out on a hunting trip and Monty was convinced that Miller’s wound would get infected.  
After Clarke examined it for about ten seconds it was pretty clear that it was just a minor scrape and unless he went out of his way to try to get it infected, he would be fine.  
Clarke entered the med bay, running her hands through her curly hair and sighing. If Monty didn’t make a move on Miller soon, she would just have to make it happen herself. Clarke was so lost in her thoughts that she almost walked straight into Bellamy, who she didn’t even realize was in there.  
Clarke was curious about what she was doing so she hung back and watched him. Bellamy was riffling through the bandages and he pulled one out. Bellamy moved to pull his black shirt over his head, his muscles flexing as he did so. He tossed the shirt in a pile on the floor.  
Clarke saw the tattoo on his lower back, just above the waistline of his pants. She read the word and gasped.

Lovejoy. 

Bellamy whirled around and Clarke forced herself to look at his face, not his chest, fighting the blush that rose up on her cheeks. His face instantly changed from anger to slight mortification.  
“What are you doing in here Clarke?” Bellamy asked, his voice sharp.  
“Here? In the med bay?” Clarke questioned slowly, “You do know I’m one of the medics here.”  
Bellamy blushed and leaned down to pick up his shirt from where it had landed on the floor.   
“Do you want to talk about it?” Clarke asked softly, knowing how important it is to not have to explain your grieving process.   
Bellamy looked back at Clarke and in that moment she swore that she could see galaxies in his eyes, supernovas and black holes alike. He walked out of the med bay but she could tell by his slowed gate and how he glanced over his shoulder that he was waiting for her to follow.   
Bellamy held the flap open for Clarke as they walked into his tent. They sat on the soft fur rug and Clarke dragged her fingers in it, making patterns lazily. After about five minutes of peaceful silence Bellamy opened his mouth to speak.  
The story of the Lovejoys rolled off his tongue like a tale that he had heard repeatedly, every since detail was memorized.  
“He was just a kid.” Bellamy said, his voice breaking, “He was just a kid.”  
Clarke noticed the tear rolling down his cheek and reached up carefully to brush it away. Her hand lingered on his cheek pressing comfort, understanding, and love into him.   
“We can do this,” Clarke said softly, her voice cracking, “Together.”


End file.
